A Monster Like Me
by FoxxFiction
Summary: "Silly girl. No one could ever love a monster like me," he commented, his voice soft. She searched his eyes and saw only defeat and bitterness gazing back at her. AU Crowley x OC
1. New Chains

"I just can't seem to get a handle on this one," his companion mused in a candid drawl. Crowley glanced at the other man, who was a bit older and far more harsh than he. "No matter what I do, she won't break. And it's a pity, because she is quite a looker."

"How bad could she be, Alastair?" Crowley questioned with a grin, rather amused that his old friend was having problems with a submissive. Alastair was a very violent, bloodthirsty dominant who beat his submissives into obedience. "I doubt you've had her for very long."

"Try two months," Alastair replied airily with a sigh. Crowley arched an eyebrow at the older man.

"Two months and she hasn't cracked yet?" Crowley asked, eyebrow arched in curiosity.

Alastair finished his glass of scotch, the reason that they were even sitting together, and looked at Crowley. The dark man was still nursing his to prolong the pleasure of a good liquor. "Not yet. I feel like I'm going to kill her before I break her, though…which wouldn't do. I paid a little too much to kill her."

"Tell you what, darling. I'll take a look over her, and if I think I want to work with her, I'll pay you back what you paid, and you can work with your others."

"Who said I wanted to sell?"

"You wouldn't tell me about a challenge without being tired of it and wanting it gone," Crowley pointed out knowingly, finally finishing his scotch and setting the empty glass next to him on the small end table that sat between their two armchairs. They'd had a variation of this conversation many times now, and Crowley never tired of it. In fact, he rather enjoyed more difficult submissives that Alastair couldn't handle. He'd gotten quite a bit of amusement in the past from them.

The two men rose to their feet, Crowley straightening his jacket lightly. A glance at Alastair showed that the older man was waiting for him to get settled. Crowley shrugged at him with a lascivious grin. "Appearances are everything, darling. I need to make sure I look as good as I feel."

"That may be a tall order," Alastair replied snarkily, though he was very candid about it. He was always ready for a smart remark, one of Crowley's more sarcastic acquaintances.

"Oh, darling, you lack faith in me."

* * *

The floor spun beneath her, a disorienting circle that drifted under her back and forth. She had a bad habit of fighting the suspension, but this was her least favorite form of bondage. She hated being above the ground, always afraid of falling. She was slowly maneuvering herself free to get away from the suspension ropes at least. She had freed her wrists, but the restraints were also around her upper arms and elbows, so that was the next step in this struggle. She bent her elbows further behind her back, groaning softly as the pain shot through her tired muscles, feeling cramps running down her arms and wincing as she tried to grab hold of the knot to work it out.

Footsteps echoed in the room, and she tried to work faster. Those footsteps were coming from the hallway, as well as muted voices. More than one? It wasn't just Alastair. That wasn't a good sign. What would today's punishment be, then? Straining herself further, she freed her elbows, bending forward as quickly as she could and managing to free her ankles just as the door opened. She wrenched her shoulders into a shrug, freeing them painfully from the belt strapped around her upper arms and twisting so she could land on the floor. Unfortunately, on the way down, her head smacked into the wall since she was closer to it than she thought. She usually had more recovery time, but she found herself bolting toward the door. She was hoping to pass Alastair, which she did, but didn't know that the other was right behind him.

Her arms were pulled behind her back, her feet flying out from under her just as her arms were released. She crashed into the stone floor on her back, the air leaving her lungs. A long, uncomfortable moment of not being able to draw in breath passed, and she finally managed to gasp air in. Her eyes opened, and she found a man looking down at her with interest. It wasn't Alastair. This man was a bit younger, his hair short and black with a very short beard - hardly longer than stubble - across his cheeks and chin. His eyes were dark and features handsome. In a mature way. He was leaning over her. Then Alastair entered the picture with an airy sigh. She felt herself getting yanked up, but fought it.

"Hello, pet," the new man offered as she was forced onto her feet, two strong, painful hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. Her eyes were on the floor, looking at his black shoes versus her feet. She hadn't washed in a short while, not having access to a bath or shower unless Alastair wanted her to bathe. Her feet were covered with cuts and dirt right now, as well as bruises. "Tell me your name." Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she found that what he'd said was an order. He was a dominant as well. His voice was almost like velvet to her, a purr with a gorgeous accent.

"He asked for your name," Alastair warned, voice candid and airy as always, but she could hear the ice under his tone. She felt her body tremble against her wishes. She would be punished whether she answered him or not.

"She's still trying to regain her breath, looks like," the man offered in that velvet purr. He looked at Alastair. "That was a daring attempt, darling." She felt as though he was talking to her despite looking at Alastair. "I'll take her."

"She was two hundred for me," Alastair informed. "Someone tried outbidding me. She cost a pretty penny, but she just isn't for me."

"That's fine, darling. I'll have the banks transfer to you. Come along, pet." She noticed that he motioned her to follow him just as Alastair's hands lifted from her shoulders. She tried to take a step after the new man - the many escape attempts outside would present themselves to her - but her body was too weak to stay upright. Without the adrenaline, she felt herself collapse in a shaky mess.

The man's shoes reentered her vision, and she hazily felt herself being picked up. His body was so warm. That was the only thought that entered her mind. She felt like she was rocking, seeing lights change around her but her eyes not focusing enough to know where she was. "You must be tired, pet," his voice cooed, sweet, soft velvet in her ear.

"M-Myra," she whispered back.

"Crowley."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for your interest, everyone! I've been hooked on a dominant Crowley idea for a while, but no one has written it yet! (You're welcome~!) I look forward to seeing what everyone thinks! Drop a review if you want! Hope to hear what you're all thinking.**

 **Cheers!**


	2. Truce

It wasn't until Myra was aware of rocking again that she came to. She blinked her eyes several times until her vision cleared enough that she could make out her surroundings. The walls were a darker tan, unlike the grey walls of Alastair's home, and she already knew something was amiss. She also felt very warm, and wondered what was keeping her so warm. Her eyes turned up, and she saw the newer man from before looking down at her with those dark eyes.

"Welcome back, pet," Crowley purred, the words rolling in his accent like velvet. She liked that. It was soothing. Myra stared up at him, tilting her head lightly as she slowly made the connection between him and the locale.

"Where am I?"

"Your new home. Like it?" he asked, mirth in his eyes and voice. He was rather amused, it seemed. He stopped at a door and shifted her weight to one arm so he could open the door, walking inside with her. He set her on a soft bed, and she was aware of the pain in her limbs from the suspension position she had been in hours previously. Was it even hours prior to now? She couldn't recall. Crowley shut the door, turning to face her and pulling his jacket off. He was thinner than she thought, the jacket making him look a lot larger than he actually was. She watched mutely as he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, loosening his tie and pulling it off. Were they already going to launch straight into sex? Well, it was to be expected. Alastair had not been pleasant for her.

Much to Myra's surprise, Crowley sat behind her. He didn't order her to sit up. Rather, he let her stay down and gingerly peeled her clothing off, taking a knife to cut along the sides of the misfitting attire. "I have a proposition for you, pet," his voice purred in that light accent. Myra blinked, looking up at him with curiosity. "You're obviously tired. Why don't we call a truce? If you can promise me that you'll be here in the morning and you won't attempt an escape overnight, I'll allow you to rest without restraints tonight. You'll get to see how accommodating I can be."

The deal sounded quite fair, actually. She could have a day to recover and regain her strength, while also seeing exactly what kind of dominant he was and learning the house.

"I'll allow you as much time as you need, until you begin to irk me," Crowley offered, and she felt that he was probably staring down at her.

Myra sighed, letting her body relax. She took her time to think about it, feeling that Crowley wasn't moving from his spot at the moment. Finally, she decided that it was better for her to accept his offer and recover from Alastair's treatment. "Very well," she agreed. She felt Crowley rise and felt a small amount of panic - this was a new place, she didn't want to be alone!

"You'll need a bath. And probably some food." She shifted so she could look up at Crowley, who was standing next to the bed with his back to her. "I'm going to run a bath for you." He turned, looking down at her with an amused smirk. Myra blinked at him, nodding slowly. She watched as he went into the bathroom to run her a bath. "Bubbles?" she heard him call from the bathroom.

"Yes, please," she replied, trying to be polite. She pushed herself up, sitting at the edge of the bed and trying to peek at the bathroom, though she couldn't see much. She could hear the water running, though.

"There should be some clothes in the drawers out there close to your size. My last submissive was very similar in size to you."

"Thank you, sir," Myra replied, slowly pushing off of the bed and walking to the dresser he had drawn her attention to. She looked through the drawers, finding that the underwear just wasn't her style - she preferred panties to thongs, if she had to be honest - and each bra had an under wire, which she determined was too painful and irritating for her to bear. It didn't take her long to find some clothes that would work for sleeping. Sweatpants and a cropped tee seemed like her best bet for now, though she would have to find a way to procure proper clothing sooner or later.

The water turned off, and Myra looked up as Crowley left the bathroom. "I'll go make something small for us to eat while you wash up," he offered. Myra hesitated before she reached out, tentatively setting her hand on his forearm and looking at his cuff links rather than his eyes.

"Can you stay here with me? For tonight?" she asked, hating how weak her voice sounded. She noticed him shift just a little, and looked up at him to see he was standing sideways, hands in his pockets as he looked down at her with surprise and curiosity written across his face.

"Are you certain that's what you want?"

"Yes, sir," Myra replied softly. He hummed as if considering it and nodded.

"Very well, pet. I'll make something for us and then I'll be back," he offered, smirking lightly at her. Myra felt her face heating up just slightly. Something about him…

She waited until he left to slip into the bathroom, taking a deep breath as she set the clothing on a vanity located next to the door. There was a large mirror over the sink on the other wall, and a toilet situated next to the sink. The main feature of the bathroom seemed to be bath itself, which sank into the floor to the right. She stepped across the white tile floor, looking down at the steamy bath he had drawn for her.

There was a small step in the bath that also functioned as a seat. She used it, sitting down at the base of the bath to let herself submerge to her shoulders. The water was hot against her skin, but she enjoyed it. Perhaps it was more psychological than physical, but the hot water was very cleansing. Her muscles relaxed as she closed her eyes, the heat itself making her body numb to the pain and stiffness that Alastair had caused her.

She didn't know how much time had passed before she looked around for the soap, finding a washcloth and a bottle of liquid soap on a shelf nearby. There was also shampoo there, but she'd get to that later. She washed herself thoroughly, scrubbing over herself perhaps once or twice before determining that most of the dark marks on her body were bruises from her punishments at the hands of Alastair. That asshole…After a quick two washes of her hair, she considered herself fresh and clean.

She soaked for a short time longer, until her hands were starting to prune. She knew she needed to get out, but took her time finding the drain and pulling the stopper free. She set it on the ledge of the tub, slowly standing up. She felt much better now, and was quite grateful for this truce. She used the seat to step up onto the bathroom floor, finding a towel from the nearby rack to dry herself. She took her time, sighing as she retrieved her clothes and pulled them on. The sweats were a touch too big, but she could pull the drawstring to tighten them and keep them from falling off her hips, and the shirt was a tad too small. It covered her breasts, at least. It hugged her breasts, and she studied herself in the mirror. She'd have to be careful not to raise her arms too much or the underside of her breasts would show. That was probably the worst of it.

She caught her own eyes in the mirror, studying the vibrant blue color. She noted that she had dark shadows under the lower lids from exhaustion. Her hair was red, the color bright and gorgeous now that her hair was clean. She knew once it dried, it would be its beautiful highlighted bright red and scarlet. It made her feel better, actually, to know that she was going to look somewhat like her old self. Her skin was pale, and she noticed her face was a little thinner than before. It didn't match her breasts - perhaps a little too large for her proportion - and her hips, which were too large for her to like. Though he'd apparently had a girl with bigger hips before, so she couldn't feel too self-conscious about it.

She heard the door open in the bedroom and sighed again. She had to face him, didn't she? She wasn't looking forward to it, if she had to be honest. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home, with Adam. But it wasn't meant to be. Not yet. But she'd find a way out of here once she had her strength. She ran a brush she found on the vanity through her hair to pull it at least remotely straight, though she knew it would curl a little once it dried. She brushed it behind her back, content with it having no tangles or knots, and sighed as she looked at the door. Well, it was definitely time. She stood from the vanity and rolled her shoulders. With a final deep breath, she padded over to the door across the cool tile and opened the door to spend some time with Crowley.

* * *

It wasn't overly surprising that she was still in the bathroom. In fact, he had expected it. Judging from her appearance and the overall odor that clung to her, she wasn't permitted to bathe often with Alastair. It had been at least a week by his guess, and he was very rarely wrong. He quickly set down the sandwiches and changed the sheets on the bed, making a note to burn the clothing that she had come in. He tossed the soiled linens into a closet in the hall to get it out of the way and then sat down on her bed. He didn't feel like dealing with her questioning him on the soiled linens and clothing while they had this truce.

He had just gotten the sandwiches when he heard the bathroom door open. He glanced up, plucking a sandwich from the top of the small stack. He'd made about three, not sure if she'd be very hungry but knowing that she'd eat something. He'd make sure she did. He studied her silently as she came to the bed, enjoying the view he got of her breasts swaying lightly under her shirt. The pants were loose, but he got a much better view of her actual size. He faintly saw the outline of her ribs and wondered at Alastair's caretaking skills. He noticed how she perched on the bed with her feet tucked in close - psychologically, a defensive motion. So she didn't trust him. Another thing that wasn't surprising.

She hugged one knee to her chest while the other leg folded under her neatly, and tentatively took one of the sandwiches. He wasn't watching her face, but felt that she was probably watching him the whole time to make sure he wouldn't stop her or she wouldn't get in trouble with him for taking it in the first place. Was this all what Alastair had done to her? He wondered about her history with dominants. Alastair wasn't this bad, not from anything that Crowley could recall.

It was a time before the silence was broken. What did surprise him was that she was the one to break it. Her voice was so soft that he almost didn't catch it. "Did you want to play a game until we fall asleep?" He arched a brow, finding himself immediately interested. A game? She didn't seem to be the very playful type, but he could be wrong considering she had no energy right now. He'd have to see her after she got some sleep in her system.

"What game did you have in mind?" he purred, knowing he was pulling seduction into his voice and not really caring. She had reacted positively to it thus far, after all.

"You ask a question, and I answer honestly. I ask a question, you answer honestly. To help us get to know each other better." She shifted then, her body turning to face him while she adjusted to sit cross-legged. She was warming up to him, it seemed, the stance far more welcoming than her previously introverted one.

"I can agree to that," Crowley replied, shifting carefully in his silk pajama pants to make sure they didn't slide down any. He was now sitting across from her cross-legged as he picked up another sandwich. "Too bad there isn't a way to win. Ladies first."

His submissive hummed as if thinking, and he took the chance to examine her hair. It seemed to be two-tone red, and he found himself wondering if it was natural or dyed. "What's your biggest fetish?" Oh? So blunt right off the bat. That certainly said a lot about her personality. He felt himself smirking, and a laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

"I suppose I have to answer that, don't I?" His answer didn't require much thought. "Blood play, probably. Or humiliation. I can't really decide between the two, pet." He looked her over, watching her as he chose his question. "What about yours?" He was immediately rewarded with a soft blush, though her response was a mumble that he couldn't make out if he tried. He reached out and captured her chin with a firm grip and offered her an encouraging smile as he forced her to look at him, the tensing in her body noticeable. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you, pet," he cooed, voice a sing-song tone as he coaxed her to answer him.

Her blue eyes downcast, then traveled side to side in an attempt to not meet his gaze. "Ah, blindfolds. And sense deprivation in general. Humiliation," she listed, trying to conceal something else, he guessed. He smirked, a chuckle escaping him.

"Well, pet, it seems we have something in common. Though I'm sensing an 'and' there. What's the other one, hmm?"

"Uhm…" He watched her face turn darker as she spoke. "I only noticed the last one very recently, but I like your voice…it's probably the accent." He grinned as he released her chin from his firm grip, enjoying how meek she was as she seemed to contemplate her next question. "Do you have any other submissives right now?"

"None other than you. I typically only keep one submissive at a time. It makes it a lot easier to focus on that submissive." He tilted his head at her. "Did you have a dominant before Alastair?"

"Yes, kinda." He arched an eyebrow and was silent, wondering if he had to ask or if she would explain. As he was about to question her, she started speaking again. "I was in a relationship with a man named Adam. He was underage, and is only nineteen. I turned twenty, so I had to go through being auctioned. I was difficult because I knew if I could be rowdy enough, no sane dominant would take me. Then Alastair started bidding and…well." She made a small sweeping motion of her arm, acknowledging the room and their situation. "Do you always choose difficult subs?"

He couldn't resist a grin. "Of course. What fun is it to have ones that already do everything I tell them? I did try once to take on an obedient sub. But I think it just boiled my blood more than anything else because there was no issue or challenge. Just the same thing every day. I expect a small fight on some things and obedience on others. It's tough to figure out if you're only here a short time." He tilted his head. "What motivates you to be so wild? Is it because you don't want to be a sub?"

"It's not that. You see, when I was forced into the auctions, I wanted to stay with Adam. If no one had bid on me, I would have gone back to him. And I wanted to see him again, so I kept being wild in the hopes of being released to him once more…" Myra explained, looking up at him. "How do you usually reward your submissives when they've done what you want?"

Crowley smiled, looking up at the ceiling in thought. That certainly explained quite a bit about her. Well, the sooner her broke her, the sooner she could be on her way. So he told himself. He could see to it she got back to him once he'd had his wicked way with her. "It depends. If it's sexual rewards, I let her pick what she wants to do. Within reason, of course. If it's more generalized, I may buy her things, take her out, give her privileges…" He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Did you go to college?"

"Yes, for a time. I even got a degree," Myra informed. "You seem insanely intelligent. What do you do for a living?"

Crowley felt the smirk before he could stop it. "I am 'insanely intelligent.' In fact, I own my own company. Have you ever heard of Corp Tech?" he waited for her nod of assent. "I own that. It's one of my biggest companies, though I have a few different ones. What kinds of things do you like?"

"Soft things, mostly. I like stuffed animals. I, uhm. I usually sleep with one, but…" Crowley noted her look at the pillows then back at him. "And puzzles. And books."

"Puzzles can be fun. Even the nontraditional ones," Crowley replied easily.

"I noticed the ring on your finger. Are you married?"

He couldn't stop himself from frowning, the playful expression gone in an instant. "I suppose you'd have to find out sooner or later." He shook his head. "I'm married to a monster named Abaddon, though not entirely by choice." He noticed her blink, but she didn't look afraid or upset. Interesting.

"I take it you two don't get along so well."

"No. We don't." He watched her scoot closer to him. "Our marriage is one of convenience. We don't even like each other, yet she likes to jerk me around from time to time just because she can."

He heard a sigh escape her and felt her arms slip around him. He blinked down at her, wrapping an arm around her mostly from curiosity. This was nice. She felt warm against him, though he wasn't used to gentle touches. He focused on her words as she spoke to him. "Well, I'm sorry you have to deal with that. I think everyone should be able to be with someone for love, rather than any other reasons. Perhaps it's naive of me, but…" He felt her rest her head against his shoulder and glanced down at her, pulling her comfortably into his lap.

"No, it's a real sentiment. Sadly there are those like me and Abaddon that are just…unlovable." He didn't sigh or lament. It was the truth - he wasn't worth anyone's love.

"No one is unlovable, Crowley." She was murmuring, and he was straining to hear her. "In truth, I think you should break it off with Abaddon and free yourself to pursue a proper relationship."

"You say that now. But after our truce ends and we get started in this…you will see. Like everyone else."

"Crowley, you'll find love. But you can't hate yourself." It was almost like she had seen deep into the darkest corners of his mind and memories.

"Silly girl. No one could ever love a monster like me," He commented softly. He didn't pull a smile, simply stared into her bright eyes on a pretty face that would never be exactly what he wanted. He wanted to see her devote herself to him, but he knew by this time tomorrow, she would lose this affection she was showing him. She would hate him. Everyone did. "What do you look for in a dominant?" he asked, returning to their game. He heard her sigh at him, her chin shifting to rest on his shoulder.

"That's hard to answer, but I like a dom with the right amount of mean and kind, who offers punishments and rewards appropriately. What do you like in a sub?"

"I like obedient, but I want some fight. If you give me everything you have, why would I want it from you in the first place? I don't like being embarrassed, however. If I have company or we're out of the house, you will behave. I don't take humiliation lightly by any means - I have a reputation to uphold." He looked at her, finding that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. "Are you sure you want to keep going, pet? If you want to sleep, you're welcome

"I want to keep going." She leaned into his touch as he stroked her hair softly. "It's nice to get to know you a little."

"Alright, pet," Crowley chuckled softly. "Where are you from?"

"I was born in America, but my mother moved to Sigma when I was four. Because of my age, I was put into the system. My mother married someone over here. I decided to stay on-campus and haven't actually seen her in almost ten years." She smiled sheepishly at him. "I don't remember America that much." She nuzzled into him and he slipped his free arm around her now. "And where are you from? Your accent is delicious."

Crowley chuckled - she must be too tired to concentrate on exactly what she was saying. "I'm from Scotland. A long way from home, I know. Why haven't you seen your family in so long?"

"By choice. I wasn't very close to my mother and when she moved here, she married some guy to get her jollies off and didn't have enough time for me because the sex was apparently that good. So I decided I was too busy with school to have time for her. What makes you happy?"

"Well, I suppose success and power," Crowley admitted, not entirely sure. Was he ever _happy_? "What makes you happy?"

"I don't know. I'm not usually happy," Myra replied, and Crowley met her eyes. "It always feels like something's missing, if that makes sense."

Crowley nodded in response. "I know exactly what they mean. I may get a few fleeting instances, but it isn't anything ground-breaking."

"What would your ideal woman look like?"

"I'm not sure I have one," Crowley replied, leaning back and pulling her with him so she was lying on top of him with a chuckle. "I've had all types, really. I guess someone shorter than me and smaller than me. I don't care about hair and eye color. What about your ideal man?"

"I…don't really have one either. I guess someone strong." He heard her let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, I think I'm falling asleep…"

"I think you're beyond tired," Crowley replied with a soft chuckle.

"Maybe…"

"Sleep, pet," he purred softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head lightly. He felt her nuzzle into him, her breathing slowing almost instantly. He could feel it fanning out against his shoulder and shifted just enough to throw a blanket over both of them.

She was certainly quite interesting…

* * *

A/N: Whoo! This took a while. I had a lot going on and just couldn't focus on writing. Hope the next chapter comes out a tad faster. But we'll see!


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